


White Hot

by gettingbetter



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Main Video Game Series), Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types, Pocket Monsters: Sun & Moon | Pokemon Sun & Moon Versions
Genre: Anal Sex, Infidelity, Light Angst, Love/Hate, M/M, Past Child Abuse, one-sided hate
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-24
Updated: 2016-12-24
Packaged: 2018-09-11 15:33:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8996461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gettingbetter/pseuds/gettingbetter
Summary: Kukui is happy to help Guzma blow off some steam.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [windfish](https://archiveofourown.org/users/windfish/gifts), [triplestar](https://archiveofourown.org/users/triplestar/gifts).



> This fic was originally meant to be crack I.... genuinely don't know how any of this happened.
> 
> To elaborate on the rating/warnings: there is descriptive sex, but very brief and not especially graphic. The past child abuse is implied but not in any way described. The angst is Guzma being Guzma.

You hate him.

You can’t fucking stand him. When you see him, when he looks at you, you feel like your blood’s boiling, two hundred and twelve degrees of pure rage threatening to burn you alive if you don’t look away. But he catches your eye and smiles at you and you’re losing it, rage overflowing and you just want to scream.

“How’s it going, cuz?” he asks, like he doesn’t know exactly how you’ve been wasting your life the past 12 years since you went on your Island Challenge together. “Been a long time, huh?”

“Not long enough,” you growl, but the smile doesn’t leave his lips. He just laughs and slaps you on the back, and you don’t flinch, because you’re not a fucking pussy and he doesn’t scare you.

“Hey, listen, I gotta run, but it was great seeing you! Why don’t you come on over for dinner sometime?” And he’s got this look in his eye, like he really would love to have you over, and it doesn’t get to you, but you’re not gonna turn down free food no matter how many stupid fucking hoops you have to jump through to get it. You’re not as proud as you are hungry these days, and you could beat yourself up about it later.

“Fucking… fine, yeah, whatever. Maybe I’ll come.”

His smile burns as bright as the blood coursing through your veins burns hot, and you leave before he can say anything else.

\---

You show up, unannounced, that Friday night.

Kukui opens the door when you knock, and he just laughs and pats you on the back before ushering you in.

“Wasn’t sure if you’d take me up on my offer, but I’m glad you did, cuz,” he laughs, and you grumble something about not having any other plans. He offers to hang up your jacket, but you tug it away from him, telling him you like it better on. His smile falters for the first time since you first ran into him, but he nods and lets go. “Some things never change, huh,” he says, and you don’t like the way he says it, like he _knows_ something about you, and you know he doesn’t know shit. You don’t say anything, though. Your mother raised you with enough manners to not brawl with your dinner hosts, not while you’re still in their house, at least.

“Come on, let me introduce you to Burnet,” he says, and he’s leading the way into the dining room. “She’s been dying to meet you.”

\---

Kukui’s wife, predictably, is a fucking delight. She’s funny, she’s brilliant, she looks at him the same way he looks at her, like they’re each the sun the other’s life revolves around. She doesn’t even seem to mind the way you don’t make eye contact, just laughs when you mutter insults towards Kukui under your breath like she thinks your little feud with her husband is the most precious thing.

You can’t bring yourself to hate her, but then, you reason that you hate Kukui enough for them both.

After dinner, when you’re trying to make a quick escape, she lets you go without any guilt trips, kissing your cheek and telling you to stop by whenever you’re in the area. You avert your eyes and mutter “Sure, whatever,” and she smiles and lets you go.

At the door, Kukui doesn’t make things so easy. He makes you promise to come again for dinner, or at the very least, just drop a line once in a while.

“It’s hard not knowing what an old friend is up to, you know? I worry about you,” he says. “Just let me know you’re doing fine every now and then and I’ll get off your back.”

“I’m alive, that’s all you need to know,” you say gruffly. “That ever changes, I’ll be sure to let you know.”

“Guzma, I’m serious,” he says, almost pleads, really.

“So am I.” With that, you push open the door and walk out as fast as possible. Kukui doesn’t try to stop you.

\---

You should’ve known coming back to Melemele was never going to make things easy for you.

Compared to Ula’ula, Melemele seems oppressively small. You find yourself escaping the walls of your home to rush to the beachfront as often now as when you were a kid, taking in the feel of the sand between your toes and the ocean air in your lungs. It’s soothing, and you feel your stress headache thinning out, until a familiar voice shakes you from your daydreaming.

“Still a sea boy at heart, huh?”

You groan. You want to ask what the fuck he’s doing here, but frankly, you know just as well as he does that there are a total of four places to kill time on this shitty rock and this is the most relaxing of them. He’s probably out for a jog, or whatever it is people who have their lives together do in the mornings.

“You know, this place always makes me think of you,” he says, and you roll your eyes. “Remember we used to camp out here at night during our trials? You always said you liked the sound of the waves better than the sound of my snoring.”

“Better than the sound of your talking, too,” you say, and he just laughs. You hate how he’s always doing that. Nothing you say can wipe that stupid smile off his face.

“Whatever you say, cuz. But I won’t forget how you used to knock on my window in the middle of the night to drag me out here with you.”

He says it with the same lighthearted air as all his other good-natured quips, but once again, you get the feeling he’s trying to skirt around something more serious than that. It pisses you off. The fuck does he think he knows, when he hasn’t seen you in over a fucking decade?

“If you’re trying to say something, you’d better think twice about who you’re saying it to,” you warn, and his hands go up defensively. Not like he’s afraid you’ll hurt him, but like he’s afraid you’ll hurt yourself. As if.

“Whoa there, no need to get mad. I’m just trying to remind you that we had some good times, you and me. I’m not the enemy, you know,” he says, gently, and you want to scream.

“Yeah? Well maybe I am,” you growl. “Maybe I’m not that kid you went on your stupid trials with anymore. Maybe I’m a bitter, grown-ass man who doesn’t have time for your shit anymore.”

“Maybe not,” he says. “But I think that kid’s still in there, just like the kid I was is still in here. You can kick and scream like you always have, but when you’ve tired yourself out, come find me. I’ll be here, waiting. No matter what you say, I’ll be here.”

\---

You don’t see him for a while after that.

You wouldn’t say you’re avoiding him, exactly. You’re just… conspicuously good at not being where he is. But that doesn’t mean anything, when there are so many places to go on Melemele, right?

Right.

You don’t even know _why_ you would be avoiding him. So, what, someone shows you an ounce of concern and suddenly you’re in fight or flight mode? Nah, screw that.

When you do see him again, he asks if you’re okay. You tell him to fuck off.

\---

Spending months back on this shitty island must’ve worn you down, because at some point, you stop hiding and start looking for him. Start looking for fights, fights you know you’ll win, fights you know you’ll lose. He must sense it, too, because he always seems ready for you, always seems to have a strategy to get you to “open up” or whatever the fuck.

 This time, you’re at his house in the middle of the night, and Burnet is, thankfully, not home. You’d never admit it, but you hate the thought of her seeing you the way you are. Like you’re scared it’ll make her think you’re not good enough. Good enough for _what_ , you have no goddamn idea.

 You just came here to talk. Honest. But when he opens the door, the look of concern on his face gets something in you so tightly wound you think you might snap before he gets the chance to speak.

“Guzma, brother, what brings you here so late?” he asks.

“Nothing. Fuck. Nevermind,” you say. “I have to go.”

“You can go if you want to, but something tells me you came here looking for something,” he says, and that does it. You’re so fucking tired of this shit, so tired of him acting like he knows you better than you know yourself, and you clench your fists tight at your sides, willing yourself not to take a swing.

He must see it, the way you feel like you’re bursting at the seams, ready to spill hate like lava from your lips, because he’s putting his hands on your shoulders, running them up and down your arms to calm you down like when you were kids.

“Brother, you just need to let go sometimes,” he says, lower than you’ve ever heard him speak, his eyes half-close. “Let me help you unwind,” and he’s leaning in.

You don’t know what the fuck is going on, even with his lips against yours. You don’t know what you came here for, but it sure as hell wasn’t this. You don’t know what to do, so you kiss him back.

His lips are soft and warm, like the rest of him, and for a second you’re calm as the sea on a still day, but then this rage, this angry fire that’s been dying down inside of you is back, burning at full force with his mouth on yours.

You pull away, sharp and violent, to ask what the hell he thinks he’s doing. Sure, you remember messing around as teens, bored, lonely kids with nothing and no one better to do. But this isn’t like that. Things have changed. You both grew up, and Kukui is married now.

Wait. Holy shit. Kukui is _married_. You hate the sick satisfaction it gives you, the realization that he’s cheating on his beautiful, perfect wife with… _you_. A street urchin. A sweaty piece of garbage. He’s giving _you_ the power to destroy his marriage, the whole life he has built.

The realization makes you smile, and you’re mashing your lips back onto his. _It’s his offer,_ you reason, _would be selfish to say no._

You kiss, hot and hard, for a minute, and sure, it’s nice, but you wanna _really_ get this show on the road. Scrape out whatever you can get out of it. Go big or go home, right? So you’re pushing him back into the house, and he leads you to the couch, which isn’t really ideal for your bad back but hey, the dirtier the better.

It doesn’t take long for you to be undressing him, pulling that perpetually-unbuttoned shirt down his arms and unzipping his pants, and you’re surprised by how little he’s objecting to any of this. For such a wholesome, family-oriented guy, he sure is taking this whole “infidelity” thing in stride. Maybe there really is more to him than you thought. You shake that thought from your head, and keep going, pulling his pants down and palming the bulge in his underwear.

“Would you look at that,” you say, “Someone’s eager.”

“Of course I am,” he says, “I want to be with you,” and okay, you’ve had enough, you’re not listening to another word out of this guy’s mouth.

“Find some lube,” you tell him, and he goes over to one of the cabinets to pull some out. You don’t want to question why he has lube stashed away in his living room. You take it, tell him to turn around, bend him down on all fours. You slick the lube over your fingers and start working him open, all business, but he’s still not complaining so you keep going.

A minute later, you’re pushing your slick dick into him, sliding in and out at a punishing pace and slapping his hand away whenever he reaches to touch himself. You’re doing this on your rules, and your rules say no one gets off before you do. You appreciate his throaty moans, though, the way he keeps calling your name like he doesn’t care who hears it, and you bite down on his shoulder to get him to howl it even louder. Your pace grows erratic, and you’re coming, filling him up with your seed. Some of it spills out when you pull your dick out, spilling on his couch, and the realization that you just fucked a married man in his own home hits you again. It’s dizzying, in its own way, and you think you need to sit down for a minute while he finally gets himself off next to you.

\---

After he cleans you both off, clean freak that he is, he insists you stay over. Normally, you’d be hightailing it out of there the second he finished, maybe sooner, but the workout has left you tired to the bone, and disturbingly agreeable.

“Told you, brother,” he says. “You just needed to work off some of that tension.”

“Oh, so that’s what you call that?” You’re grinning sharply, sweet voice contrasting with the daggers coming out of your mouth. “It’s not ‘cheating on your wife’, it’s ‘relieving tension’?”

“Guzma, I did not cheat on my wife.”

“Whatever you gotta tell yourself, man. Your secret’s safe with me,” and you wink for good measure.

“Burnet and I have an open relationship, have had one for years. I thought you knew,” he says, and it looks like some realization is dawning on him. “Is that why you were so hesitant? You were worried you were going to hurt our marriage? God, I’m so sorry to have done that to you,” and you’re really ready to scream, now.

“I- I gotta go, man,” you say, and you head towards the door, muttering “What the fuck” to yourself. Fucking typical.

On your way out, you run into Burnet, and she smiles and waves to you.

“Hope you boys had fun,” she says sweetly, and you know she really does know, and you know she really doesn’t care. “Kukui told me you might be around one of these days, so I’ve been giving him some space, just in case.”

You really don’t know what to do about this. You don’t know what to do about Burnet’s kindness, Kukui’s neverending stream of naïve _goodness_ , your own inability to even fuck things up right. You just keep walking, straight to the bay. You need some time on the water to figure out what the fuck you’re going to do with yourself.


End file.
